Assassin's Creed: Ashes
by Kinecelefan
Summary: Phoenix never did have a good work ethic, so how could he pass up the opportunity to forget his janitorial work and be the first to play an awesome video game? Once he starts playing, however, this video game turns out to be more than expected, when he finds himself stepping into the body of the character, a member of an order of assassins, Savastian.
1. Prologue

Phoenix never thought he would be degraded to this. Granted, he knew that he would most likely never be considerably successful, but really, a janitor? It never crossed his mind when considering career choices. He supposed someone had to do it, but honestly... why him? _I don't get paid enough for this... _He thought with a sigh, lazily shifting most of his weight to his cart as he pushed it. The Abstergo Industries building Phoenix worked in was rather large, and it was tiring pushing a mop up and down the floors of hundreds of rooms. As Phoenix turned his cart towards the next room, the door automatically slid open._ I guess nobody's home_, Phoenix thought. Most of the doors in the building were automatic, but remained sealed when the rooms were in use. This was the first time this door had opened since Phoenix had started working at Abstergo. He pushed the cart into the room, and was surprised to find the room extremely clean. He could just barely detect the scent of bleach. _What did they do in here, kill someone?_ Phoenix thought, sarcastically. He was about to leave, when out of the corner of his eye, something grabbed his attention. _What the hell? Is that a... space bed?_ He wondered, looking the machine over. It was about seven feet long by two feet wide, and had several flashing disks running down the top, each smaller than the last. They looked a bit like the circular LED lights Phoenix sometimes saw in the lighting sections of hardware stores, but only the smallest disk was comparable in size. The machine was somewhat rippled, seemingly designed to comfortably fit a human body.

On the other side of the machine, Phoenix could see what looked like a small computer monitor- probably some kind of control system. Phoenix glanced around, making sure he was truely alone, then slid into the machine. As soon he rested his head on the plexiglass over the largest disk, he heard an unexpected sound, like a car window sliding down. The source of the sound then presented itself; a curved sheet of glass, extending over his face from the left side of his head. When the glass reached the other side of his head, a white Abstergo logo appeared, and the ceiling faded into a pixely dark blue void. _Oh my god, what is this? Some sort of computer?_ Phoenix thought, off-guard. Then, everything faded to white.


	2. Sequence 1: Chapter 1

_[SEARCHING FOR TIMEFRAME DATA]_

_..._

_[ DATA FOUND]_

_[Vigo - 1523]_

_Who's that guy?_

A young boy stood before Phoenix's eyes. He was wearing a dress shirt with somewhat goofy looking, bushy sleeves, and a dark red scarf. He looked no more than eight, but something about him- maybe the serious look in his eyes, or his slicked-back black hair- almost made him seem like an adult. The screen around him began to take shape, and the camera angle shifted to behind the boy, showing that he was speaking to a larger boy, who had the shirt collar of another child, around the same age as the first boy, clenched in his hand at his side. "Now, I will allow you until the count of three to release him," the first boy said, "before I get involved."

"No, Sav... Go home..." The victim mumbled. The larger boy glanced down at his victim for a moment, then looked back to the first boy -"Sav", as he was called- then said, with a chuckle, "And who are you, his little sister?" A slight smile crept onto the boy called Sav's face, "No," he said, "I am Savastian Aquél Moscas, and you are an idiot," and with that, he swooped forward, plunging his fist into the larger boy's stomach.

"Bah!" The boy huffed, releasing his victim's shirt. Out of the corner of his eye, Phoenix saw the injured boy pull himself to his feet, "Go!" Shouted Savastian, shooting around the older boy before following his own order, and taking off after the victim. It took the attacker a moment to regain his composure, so the kids had a bit of a head start. They raced passed people and buildings, trying to lose their pursuer, "Why must you always do this, Paulo?" Savastian asked the other boy, more pity than anger in his voice. Paulo, as Savastian had called him, began climbing a ladder as he answered, "He said terrible things about Papa! Claimed that the reason he leaves for so long is that he's too drunk to make it home! You would have done the same if you were there in my place!" Savastian grabbed onto the ladder and began climbing after his brother, "Maybe so, but Mama will still not be pleased to see your bruises," he said with a sigh. As he reached the top of the ladder, he heard a stream of profanity coming from behind him, "He's catching up, and we're trapped like rats! Why did you bring us up here?" He asked, still maintaining the professional tone in his voice, as he pulled himself onto the roof, "Trapped like rats, you say? I don't see it that way," Paulo grinned, enjoying his superiority, "just have a little faith, baby brother," and with that, he spun around, spreading out his arms as he turned, and lept from the rooftop.

"Paulo!" Savastian shouted out, losing his composure. He was about to run to the edge of the roof to see if his brother was alright, when he heard the ladder creak. He turned around, and sure enough, there was his pursuer, pulling himself onto the rooftop. He climbed to his feet and looked around, "It's just... You... And me now... Then... I guess..." The boy panted, looking to Savastian, "Not... So... Cocky now... I see! I wonder how your... Mama will feel when... She's scraping you from the ground... Below!" Savastian was trapped, as far as he could see. The ladder he had climbed up was blocked, and there were no more. He made sure there was no other way as the brute caught his breath, then, as his enemy began running towards him, he turned and ran for the edge of the roof._ Have a little faith._ The words bounced around inside Phoenix's head as Savastian lept, spreading out his arms as his feet left the ground. For just a moment, it was like he was flying. Then, he dropped. It felt as though his stomach was flying into his throat for a moment before he hit the ground. No, not the ground... a bail of hay! He smiled, pulling himself out of the hay. He looked around, "Paulo?" He called, then saw his brother waving him over to a bench. "What did I tell you?" Paulo asked with a grin.

_[FAST-FORWARDING MEMORY TO A MORE RECENT ONE]_

As the brothers approched their home, Savastian worried about how badly Paulo would be punished. Their mother had grown tired of confining him to the house after he got into fights, and tended to physically punish him as well nowadays. Usually a beating was expectable, but usually Paulo didn't come home in such bad shape. What awaited him this time? As they walked inside, their mother walked out of the kitchen to greet them. Before she could say anything, she saw Paulo's condition. The smile dropped from her face, and her cheeks went white, "What... Did you... I can't..." She stammered. Thinking quickly, Savastian stepped forward, "It's my fault, Mama! I got into a fight with someone, and he was injured trying to protect me," he lied. He couldn't let his brother take the blame, even if it was his to take. She would never let him outside again if she knew, and he wouldn't be able to stand captivity. "Savastian? You?" She said in bewilderment, "I thought you... I didn't..." She took a deep breath, collecting her thoughts, "You're seven years old, Savastian! I thought you were more mature than this," she finally said. "He called Papa a drunkard! That's the only-" Savastian began to say, but his mother cut him off with, "No leaving the house until furthernotice," and then walked back into the kitchen.

"Why did you do that?" Paulo asked. "Do what?" Paulo shook his head, "Take the blame!" Savastian sighed, "Because you couldn't," he replied mockingly, "Oh, shut up, you!" Paulo snarled, before walking into his bedroom and shutting the door. Savastian climbed up the stairs, and started walking down the hallway. As he made his way to his bedroom, he noticed his father had left the hatch leading into the attic open. Savastian had never seen the hatch open before, as his father used the attic as a workroom, and kept it locked at almost all times. Savastian had always wondered what work his father did up there. He knew his father wasn't home, and could still hear his mother in the kitchen, so he grabbed onto the highest rung of the ladder he could reach, then began climbing. When he reached the top of the ladder, he took his first step into his fathers study, and gasped.

The walls were lined with weapon racks.


	3. Chapter 2

Savastian stared at the racks. On one rack sat maces and war-hammers, while the other five held many different kinds of swords. "So that's what he does up here!" Savastian said aloud, "He collects swords, from his travels!" He walked over to one of the the sword racks. On the table under the rack, there was a glass case, holding several daggers, a white glove adorned with metal cestus, and a pouch of throwing knives. Savastian opened a section of glass, and pulled out the cestus. the glove was rather large compared to his hand, and it didn't fit him very well.

He pulled off the glove and returned it to its place, then sealed the case. Next, he reached up, and pulled a rapier from the rack. It was heavy, and Savastian could only just support its weight with both hands. He reached up to place the sword back on the rack, when he noticed something odd- a bit of red trapped around the very base of the blade. _Rust? No, it's a sword. Why would they make an iron sword when they have so many better metals? _Phoenix was thinking, when suddenly, the colors of the room, as well as perspective, shifted._What the?!_ Phoenix was looking through the eyes of Savastian, and the room went dark. Savastian looked at the sword in his hands. He saw his hands illuminated in bright blue , but the blade glowed mostly red. Savastian gasped. _What does the red mean?_ Phoenix wondered as Savastian raised his head to look at the other swords. All of them were the same! "No... Papa..." Savastian muttered. He was about to shift his vision back to normal, when something caught his eye. A large chest to his left, held shut by a large lock, glowed white. The perspective and colors changed back to normal as Savastian walked over to the chest.

As he lifted the lock, it came undone- it must have been sealed sloppily. Savastian put down the lock, and lifted the lid of the chest. Phoenix had almost began to feel anxious. What was in the chest? Savastian leaned the lid against the wall and peered into the chest. At first all he saw was a mostly white noble's tunic and a pair of baggy looking trousers- nothing worth keeping locked away in a chest- but after he pulled the clothing from the chest, he saw what was really being hidden.

In the chest sat a white hood and several pieces of armor. Savastian picked up the hood, straightening it out. On the top of the hood, jutting out off the tip slightly, was a point, somewhat reminiscent of an eagles beak. Savastian examined the hood, eyes wide. Phoenix wondered why the hood caused such shock._ It's just a hood with a pointy tip. What's the big deal? _Savastian put down the hood, and reached into the chest once more. Inside, he found a wrist brace, which seemed to cause him even more distress than the hood had. He reached into the bracer and felt around for a moment. His eyes widened, and he moved his hand ever so slightly, pressing against the interior of the bracer, and with a high pitched sound, a blade extended from the bottom of the brace. _Whoa! How did Savastian know that would happen? _Phoenix wondered. Well, he knew it would all be made clear eventually.

_[FAST-FORWARDING MEMORY TO A MORE RECENT ONE]_

Savastian had taken the hood and wrist blade to his bedroom. He took a few deep breaths, thinking about what he would say. Should he wait until his father returned, then directly confront him, or hint about his knowledge to his mother? Trick his father into a confession, or demand one? Allow himself to react emotionally, or try to remain calm until one of his parents explained? Savastian considered putting the items back where he found them, and pretending he had never gone into the attic. No, he had to know for sure. Taking one last deep breath, Savastian decided to confront his mother. He walked down the stairs, clutching the weapon in his left hand and the hood in his right. He paused by the doorway to the kitchen, working up his courage. He _was _only seven, and despite what his mother seemed to think, just a little kid. He squeezed the hood, then stepped into the kitchen, where his mother was setting the table.

Savastian walked to the side of the table across from her and cleared his throat loudly to get her attention. She looked up at him for a moment, then as she began to move to the next seat she simply said, "Dinner is not ready yet." Savastian slammed the wrist blade down on the table. His mother jerked her head back to him, surprised by the loud noise, "What did you-" She began, then caught sight of the brace on the tabletop. "Where did you get that?" She asked, eyes wide. "The same place I got this," Savastian replied, placing the hood on the table, next to the wrist blade, "Papa's workroom. Tell me, why is it that Papa owns the same hood and blade as the assassin everyone is so scared of?"

Tears began streaming down Savastian's mother's cheeks as she tried to explain, "Your father and I... Well, it started with the... What I mean is, the Templars..." She took a deep breath, wiped the her eyes, and stopped a moment to figure out how to tell him in a way that he would understand. "Many years ago, during the wars they called 'The Crusades', two groups were formed. One group was the Templars, who thought that the only road to peace was for all to serve them. The other group was the Assassins, who thought all people should have the right to make their own choices. After the crusades had ended, the Templars remained, but hid their allegiance from the general public. Since the assassins could no longer find them so easily, but _they _could find the assassins, the assassins needed to change their ways as well, and began sticking to the shadows," She explained, "Your papa and I were both trained as assassins, but I gave up that life when your brother was born. Your papa joined a shipping company to give himself a reason to leave for days at a time, as well as means for transportation over seas."

"So... Papa kills people for a living?" Savastian asked in disbelief. "No, he kills for the good of innocents. Do not misunderstand what I'm telling you, It's not as though he kills just anyone." Savastian's mother sighed and muttered something Savastian couldn't make out. "I beg your pardon, Mama?"

"Stay your blade," his mother said, looking up to Savastian, "From the flesh of an innocent. It is one of our tenants " "Tenants?" Savastian raised an eyebrow, "What tenants " Savastian's mother rested her face on her palm before replying, "There are three tenants all assassins of the brotherhood must follow. Stay your blade from the flesh of an innocent, remain anonymous to all around you, and never compromise the brotherhood. This is our creed, and any assassin who breaks any one of these tenants is not one of us. This is one thing you must always remember, my son. Now, put those things back where you found them. We'll talk to your papa about how we will go about this when he returns." Savastian didn't quite understand what she meant by 'go about this', but he decided to wait and see as opposed to asking. As he stepped out of the kitchen, his mother called out to him, "One more thing, Savastian." He turned back to look at her, then she smiled slightly and said, "I know who began the fight." Before Savastian could reply, she waved her hand in dismissal, and went back to setting the table.

_[FAST-FORWARDING MEMORY TO A MORE RECENT ONE]_

Savastian was sitting in his room, practicing Italian, when he heard the front door opening as his father entered the house. Savastian lept up from his bed and charged down the steps, tackling his father as soon as he got far enough down the stairs. this 'attack' was met with open arms. After Savastian's father put him down, Phoenix finally got a decent look at the man. Phoenix would estimate that he was around five and a half feet tall, which he thought was about average for the time. From what he had seen and heard, Phoenix knew the man to be some kind of assassin, and just judging by the man's features, he didn't doubt the statement's truth. The man was rather muscular, but not enough to hinder his speed. He had a scar across his nose, but aside from that greatly resembled Paulo, with a rather large nose and dark brown eyes. He had long bangs, parted in the middle, but the rest of his hair was rather short. Phoenix had just made note of the brace on the man's left wrist when Savastian's mother walked out of the kitchen to greet her husband, "Welcome home, my darling," she said, and Savastian covered his eyes as she kissed his father. Savastian's mother whispered something in her husbands ear, and a look of shock briefly passed over his face. He then smiled once more and replied, "Well, this makes the revelation quite a lot easier," then he and Savastian followed his wife to the dining room.

The meal seemed to be some kind of tomato soup and bread. Paulo had already taken his seat at the table, and probably would have been halfway done with his meal had the family been less religious. After they had all sat down and said grace, Paulo dug in, and Savastian dipped his bread into the soup. It took all his willpower to chew it properly, instead of just gulping it down. He was just so shaken up, he wanted the meal to be over as soon as possible, yet it seemed to drag on for an eternity, and he could barely keep himself seated toward the end of the meal. He was lost in thought when his mother spoke, "Something wrong, Savastian?" He snapped back to reality and realized he was scratching his left hand. Stopping, he quickly replied, "No, Mama, I'm fine," and finished his dinner. His mother knew him better than anyone, and she could certainly tell when something was on his mind. He figured the reason she didn't push was so as to not alert Paulo. Poor Paulo. He had gone through nine years of his life living with a man he didn't truly know, and would go through who knows how many more, while Savastian learned the truth at age seven. Not very fair, in Savastian's eyes, but he supposed there was no changing it.

For now.


	4. Chapter 3

[FAST-FORWARDING MEMORY TO A MORE RECENT ONE]

Savastian was in his room, reading an Italian children's book, when his father opened the door, just enough to poke his head through. He smiled, seeing Savastian's choice of literature, then beckoned his son to the hallway.

Savastian stood up, placed the book on the shelf, and left his room. His father waved him over to the ladder leading up to the attic, then began climbing. Savastian followed his father up the ladder, and his mother helped him into the attic when he reached the top rung. "Since you've already seen my study, I suppose we may as well speak here," Savastian's father said, locking the hatch behind Savastian.

"Speak about... what, exactly?" Savastian asked, nervously eyeing the many swords surrounding them. He didn't think his parents would hurt him, but his father had been lying to him and Paulo their entire lives. What else could he do? Would he be willing to murder his own son to keep his secret?

"Well, first off, I'm sorry," Savastian's father broke his train of thought, "for lying to you all this time. I wanted to tell you, I always have, but..." He paused, finding the words to say, then spoke again, "Fears have always gotten in my way." He took a deep breath, "Fears of how the order would react, fears of how you would react, fears of what may slip out when you were talking to someone... so we planned to wait until you were old enough to begin training, eighteen years old, before telling you. The same went for Paulo, and still does for him, but... not you, anymore."

He paused to let his words sink in, then continued, "Now I ask you, my son, what do you wish to do now that you know the truth?" Savastian glanced around the room as he thought about it. His hands drifted to the top of the desk he was sitting at, and he began lightly scratching his left hand. His father seemed truly contrite, but he had lied to Savastian so much, did his remorse even matter? And, on another note, he had killed possibly hundreds of innocent people! No, not innocent... Savastian's mother had said that. Not innocents, but those who posed a threat to them. In this, Savastian supposed it was a good thing his father did, But still...

Savastian glanced around the room, considering his options. What to do, what to say? Urgh, he wished he had more time. His thoughts kept drifting to irrelevant things, such as where the swords came from, and he had to fight hard to focus on the question at hand. What do you wish to do now that you know the truth? He considered his father's situation. He could understand it, sort of. He and his brother both tried to help those in need whenever they could, often delivering messages or finding lost items for people throughout the city. Now that he had thought about it, his father was the one who taught them to act as such. Those who knowingly caused the problems of society... did they deserve to die, he wondered? He considered this. If someone deserved, needed, to die, someone had to do it, and the assassins carried out that duty. Was that really so bad? It wasn't as though they killed for their own gain... That did it. Savastian knew what his answer would be.

"I want to be an assassin."

"You... want to be an assassin?" Savastian's mother's eyes were wide with disbelief.

"That is what I said, is it not?"

"Yes, but... Why would you want to be an assassin, at your age, none the less?"

Sure, now she acknowledges his age, Phoenix thought, there's always something in the way when it starts getting good.

"I want to help people," Savastian replied, "really help people, not bring letters to them. What father does... That is what I want to do, to cast down Templars, and save innocents... Anyway, I would become an assassin in eleven years anyway, correct? So it will be no different from the way it was meant to be, aside from my age."

This statement was met with silence. Savastian's parents glanced at one another, then back to him, then back to each other once again, before his father finally spoke, "I suppose that is true, but... no, you can't be an assassin."

What?! He couldn't honestly be such a hypocrite, could he? Savastian had just willingly accepted the life his father was trying to force onto him, and he turned him down?! Savastian opened his mouth to protest when his father continued, "Not yet, anyway. You aren't old enough to start your training yet."

"Well, when will I be?" Savastian pressed on. He would be an assassin. He was dead set on it now. " As I said before," his father replied, "When you are eighteen." This would not do. "Then what's the point?" Savastian asked. "It will be the same as if I'd never found out the truth. If I can't train until I'm eighteen, what's the good in me knowing now?" His father considered this for a moment, putting his hand to his chin as he thought. He hesitated for a second, then said, "Sixteen." Savastian frowned, "Still to long," he said. "Well, that is the youngest age at which I will train you," his father said.

Savastian considered his options. How to counter his fathers authority? Then he realized the great asset he had in his favor. "Nine years is an awfully long time to wait..." He smirked, "in that time, a boy may forget a secret must be kept." He didn't actually plan to fulfill his threat, and blackmail was a coward's tool, but he was feeling rather desperate at the time. Within the small period of time he'd spent in the attic, Savastian had built up his hopes, and he was not one to let his hopes fall- no matter how shaky the foundation. "Fourteen years old," Savastian's father growled in response after a few moments.

"I'll be twice as old then, and that means..."

"Thirteen, and that is my final offer!" Savastian thought of trying for younger, but knew he was already pushing his luck. He decided to take what he could get. "Alright, but one thing before we make that final,"

"What now?" His father asked with a sigh, putting his palm to his forehead.

"I would like to see it in writing."

[FAST-FORWARDING MEMORY TO A MORE RECENT ONE]

Savastian woke up before the sun had reached all the way above the horizon the next day. He washed his face and rinsed his mouth out before walking outside into the dim morning light. He took a deep breath and stretched his arms, then sat down on the doorstep to stretch his legs. After he had finished, he stood up and jogged around to the back of his house. He turned his gaze upward, examining the house. The bottom five feet or so of the house was lined with what seemed to be brick in Phoenix's eyes. The rest looked like concrete, though Phoenix couldn't be sure they even had concrete back then. Wasn't it invented in ancient Rome? That made sense, but he had always been kind of terrible at history.

There were two second story windows on this side of the house, about a foot above the brick lining, which seemed to excite Savastian. He shifted his weight from one foot to the other, clenching his fists, then pivoted on his right foot and charged away from the house. As he ran, his movements became more fluid, and he relaxed his hands. He slowed down after he got several meters away from his house, then stopped, turning around.

Once more, he prepared himself for the run, then barreled forward. He pushed with all his might. He couldn't hesitate, not for a single second. He was nearing the house rapidly, closer, closer, then he pulled one of his legs up to push up the wall. Too late. his knee bashed against the hard brick, followed by his body. He bounced backward, awkwardly flailing in a poor attempt to regain his balance as he fell onto his back. The screen faded to white, then Phoenix found himself standing in a cloudy void, made up of several shades of blue. No, wait... it wasn't him standing there, but Savastian. Phoenix tried to look down from the screen, at his body, but instead saw Savastian look down. What the hell is going on?! Just then he heard the voice.

[IF YOU WANT TO CLIMB A TALL BUILDING, YOU SHOULD BEGIN BY FREE-RUNNING TOWARDS IT FROM A REASONABLE DISTANCE]

The voice giving the tip was the same one that announced when the "memory" was being fast-forwarded, as well as the one that had revealed the time period when Phoenix had first entered the machine. Why had it referred to Savastian as "you"? Now that Phoenix thought about it, he was controlling the boy's body all of a sudden, while sitting in a strange machine. He couldn't believe he hadn't realized it earlier- this was all a video game. One where you could step into the shoes of your character, while viewing it all from a third-person point of view. Why did they have such a cool thing at a drug company?

Suddenly, the screen faded to white, then Phoenix was looking at Savastian, sitting in a wooden chair with a man standing over him. The man wore a long black jacket and a bowler hat, over a tight hood which covered his hair, ears and neck. This must have been the way doctors dressed at the time, Phoenix guessed. The doctor was wiping Savastian's knee, the one the boy had bashed on the wall, with a small cloth. Phoenix's own knee stung a little, and he wondered how the game could cause him to feel pain. It was a cool feature, he supposed, but what if he got badly hurt? He figured the game probably wouldn't induce much more pain than the knee injury, but wouldn't that kind of make the whole thing pointless? Phoenix's thoughts were interrupted when the doctor spoke, while wrapping a bandage around Savastian's leg. "There, that should heal up soon, as long as you stay off of it for the rest of the day. Take the bandage off tonight, before you go to bed, else it may bring infection," he said.

"Thank you, Señor. How much will that cost me?" Savastian asked, reaching for a small pouch on his belt. "Well... I suppose it was a small wound, so I'll go easy on you. I'll accept ten maravedís, but don't think you'll pay so little next time." Savastian pulled a few coins from his pouch, counted them to make sure he had enough, then placed them into the doctor's waiting palm. "Pleasure doing business with you, friend," the doctor said, placing the coins in a box that sat on top of his cart.

[FAST-FORWARDING MEMORY TO A MORE RECENT ONE]

Several days seemed to have passed since Savastian hurt his knee. He was preparing to, once again, attempt to climb his house, only this time was different. This time, Phoenix could feel the whole experience, not just observe it. Savastian walked a more generous distance from the house this time, and timed his movements much better. When he got a few feet from the house, he pulled up his leg, meeting the building just in time. Without pausing for so much as a second, he kicked upward, shifting his power to his other foot as he kicked upward with it. He stretched out his arms while still running up the wall, and grabbed the rim of the brick lining as he lost momentum.

Phoenix could feel the strain on the boy's tiny arms as he pulled himself upward. He tried to maintain upward thrust, but couldn't get quite high enough to reach the window. That one mistake was all it took. As Savastian's fingertips slipped from the edge of the window frame, everything seemed to blur into a rapidly moving stream of events - the fall, his face slamming forward into the building, the flash of red and the sharp pain just above Phoenix's right eye as Savastian's face caught on the rim of the brick, and the impact of the ground against the back of his head- accompanied by another red flash, followed by the screen fading to white.


	5. Chapter 4

Phoenix was relieved when the machine released him. He put his hand up to his right eyebrow, and was almost surprised to find it intact. He was starting to worry about his safety. If the machine could cause him that much pain, how much worse could it get? What would happen when he ran into bad guys? He stood up, walking around the machine to the small computer monitor. On the screen was an Abstergo logo, which shifted to a different shape, spun, and returned to it's starting position every few seconds - a company screen saver. When Phoenix touched the mouse, the browser automatically popped up. Phoenix minimized the window, and scanned the screen for anything that may help explain what he was getting himself into. The first few documents were the Abstergo email network, the Abstergo online encyclopedia, and the Abstergo web browser... whoever made this thing had some serious company pride! Next came the Recycle bin, followed by a few user-made documents - Memory logs, labeled one through sixteen. Next - Bingo.

The document was called "Animus Project Info/Controls". Phoenix decided that "Animus" must be was the machine was called. He double-clicked the icon, opening a page with a rather odd layout. The background was the same as the void within the Animus, but with a translucent grey box, adorned with white writing, cutting through the center of the screen. The white writing seemed to be some kind of registration form, listing information about the user - though, in this case, the user was unregistered and unknown.

* * *

_SUBJECT ?_

_NAME: ?_

_SUBJECT STATUS: OUT OF ANIMUS_

_ANIMUS STATUS: COOLING DOWN_

Next it had a list of options, each one a link.

_CONTROLS_

_VIEW_

_INFORMATION_

_LOGS_

* * *

Phoenix decided to flip through them one by one, starting with "Controls". The page consisted of a list of commands.

* * *

_PAUSE/RESUME MEMORY_

_UPDATE PROGRAMMING_

_RECORD_

_AUDIO OPTIONS_

_VISUAL OPTIONS_

_EXIT ANIMUS_

_BACK_

* * *

_Okay, nothing interesting there, _Phoenix thought, clicking back. Next was "View", but when Phoenix clicked it, it gave him an error message: _SUBJECT MUST BE ACCESSING MEMORY TO VIEW._ He moved on to "Information", and realized it was probably what he should have chosen to begin with. The page seemed to explain quite a lot, including the story behind the Animus itself.

* * *

_The Animus 1.28 is a machine capable of decoding genetic memories, and rendering them in three dimensions, all in real time. It took over thirty years of research and development before it became what it is today, and it is among the, if not_ the,_ greatest achievements we've made over the past century._

* * *

That explained "Fast forwarding memory to a more recent one". Ha, genetic memories. How ridiculous! Phoenix supposed it was a cool idea, but did they really need a fictional explanation for this thing? They _could _just give the truth - that the Animus was a virtual reality machine. He continued reading.

* * *

_Now, mass production of a slightly different kind of Animus has begun, and we are almost ready to begin our training program, which will use something called The Bleeding Effect to train recruits the skills of past Templars. Normally, The Bleeding Effect is a disorder caused by over-exposure to the Animus, but by using simulated "memories", as opposed to real-time scanning, The Bleeding Effect takes a different form, without any inconvenient side-effects (i.e. Hallucinations, M.P.D, Loss off body control, etc.). Once we have accumulated enough recruits, the Assassins will no longer be a threat to our plans, and we can move on with our main objective._

* * *

_Whoa, hold up there, the Assassins are the_ bad_ guys_? Phoenix wondered. If the assassins were the bad guys, why was he playing one? Then he realized something else - it had referred to "Past Templars". Does that mean the Templars were the real good guys? Or was this some kind of bad guy point of view thing? Man, he was so confused! Just then, he noticed something - a sound. He cocked his head, listening. The sound was familiar, but it took a moment for him to realize what it was - the squeak of a maintenance cart's wheels coming down the hall. Phoenix quickly closed the page he'd been reading and looked around for another way out of the room, but the only exit seemed to be the door he had entered through. He needed a place to hide! Frantically, he looked around the room. He saw one unlocked door, grabbed his cart, and ran into the room, a bedroom. Why was there a bedroom in an office? No time to wonder. He shoved the cart through another door, into a bathroom, and dove under the bed - just in time, too. He heard the door into the main office open and at least two people walk in, one of them pushing a cart.

"Ugh! I can still smell the bleach. Spray some air freshener in here or something!" Phoenix heard the voice outside the bedroom. It was somewhat familiar, but he didn't know where he'd heard it.

"Yes, doctor," came another voice. This one Phoenix recognized as Phil, another janitor. Phoenix and him took lunch break at the same time, so they often talked to each other while they ate.

"Well, Warren, you're sure in a pleasant mood today," came a third voice, a woman, as she walked into the office. "Please, Ms. Stillman, I'm not in the mood for your sarcasm. Just be quiet and get to work."

Several hours passed, and Phoenix didn't know he'd fallen asleep until he woke up. He crawled out from under the bed, walked back into the office, and looked out the window. The sun was below the horizon already, and phoenix knew that if he didn't leave soon he would get locked inside the building. He retrieved his cart and left the room. After taking the elevator downstairs, he put his cart into a janitor's closet, and left the building.

The parking lot was mostly empty, so Phoenix had little trouble finding his car. The old minivan was in rather bad shape, but Phoenix wasn't exactly well-paid. He got into the car and began driving home. Ugh, home - A crummy apartment building in a bad neighborhood, with a landlord who barely spoke English and a roommate who emptied the fridge as soon as soon as Phoenix got home from the grocery store. Yep, he _definite__ly_ liked living there. As he was driving, Phoenix noticed the gas tank was almost on empty. He pulled over at the first gas station he saw, and was barely out of the car when someone called out to him.

"Hey! You! Janitor guy!" Phoenix looked in the direction of the voice. It came from a young man, probably nineteen or twenty, who was running towards Phoenix. The man was a bit taller than Phoenix, but very thin, and had raven hair and grey eyes.

"What?" Phoenix replied as the man reached him. The man examined Phoenix's name-tag for a moment, then said, "Ah, Abstergo, I thought so." He paused for a moment, and Phoenix stared in confusion. _What does this guy want?_

"Tell me, Phoenix Monroe, how is everything going there?" Phoenix was silent for a moment, then simply asked, "Uh... what?"

"Must I really repeat myself, Phoenix Monroe, or are you just wasting my time for something to do?"

"Why do you keep calling me that?"

"You mean your name?"

"Yes!"

"If you don't want people to call you by your name, maybe you shouldn't leave your name-tag on after work."

Phoenix unpinned his name-tag from his shirt and shoved it into his pocket before continuing, "Why do you want to know about Abstergo?" The man looked at his feet and thought for a moment.

"Well, first off, how's... How's Lucy Stillman doing?"

Stillman... He'd never met a Stillman, but the name felt familiar... Hadn't the doctor with the Animus in his office referred to the woman who seemed to be his assistant as 'Ms. Stillman'?

"I, um... I haven't met her," Phoenix said, and it was kind of true. He _hadn't _met her, only heard her voice while he was hiding in her boss's office bedroom, and he wasn't about to tell _that _to a friend of hers.

"Hmm, that's a shame, she's a really nice girl. What about Warren Vidic?"

Now this guy he did know. He was an impatient, narcissistic, and all around rude old man, according to Phil. Phil, Stillman and... Warren! He'd only heard Dr. Vidic's voice once, which explained why he couldn't put his finger on where he'd heard it. How was it that Lucy Stillman and Warren Vidic were the first two people this guy asked about, _and _the two people using the office Phoenix had been in?

"Look, man, I'm kinda in a hurry to get home," Phoenix lied.

"Oh... Oh, I'm sorry to have held you up... By all means, go ahead," the man replied, and walked away in the direction he had come from. Phoenix filled up his gas tank enough for the drive home and to work the next day, then drove home.


	6. Chapter 5

((AN: I created Savastian before much had been released about Conner. When first creating him, I decided, "Hey, Sav should be able to fight with both hands, like me. No, better yet, he should be full on ambidextrous! I'll give him dual daggers, and have him put the hidden blade on his right hand at first or something." When first writing this fic, I decided that Sav would strive for nothing more than to help people. I also originally planned to make him grow serious once he became an assassin. Then Conner's information was released, and I ended up looking like a rip off. I'm not going to change his drive or ambidexterity, though he will now retain his cocky nature. Thanks for reading, and I hope you enjoy the story.))

The next day, Phoenix woke up bright and early. He finished off the last of the milk in his coffee and ended up eating his bowl of cereal dry. As he ate, he skimmed the newspaper, not expecting to find anything interesting. He would never stop wishing his expectations had been correct. He dropped his spoon with a loud 'clang', and heard his roommate groaning in the other room, but was to shocked to care. The headline read, "ABSTERGO JANITOR FOUND DEAD IN TIBER". Phoenix skimmed the article to see who it was, though he had a bad feeling that he already knew. There was the name - Phillip McPherson. Phil was dead, and Phoenix had seen - er, heard - him alive and well less than twelve hours before - in the room with the Animus, and the smell of bleach lingering in the air. Could it be that Phoenix's sarcastic thought had actually been correct? He now had a feeling that the Animus was something more important than a video game. Not that he was just going to accept the capabilities it's description spoke of, but he _was_ certain it had at least _some_ connection to Phil's death. God, this was getting creepy! Phoenix was worried about going to work, but at the same time felt as though he had to get back in that machine. But... what would happen if someone caught him? Would _he_ end up belly up in the Tiber?

Several hours later, Phoenix hesitantly pulled into the parking lot beneath the main Abstergo building. Taking a shaky breath, he stepped out of the car, and began walking toward the entrance. He walked into a janitor's closet, grabbed his cart, and immediately went upstairs. When he reached Dr. Vidic's office, the doors automatically opened. He looked around the room, making sure there was no one inside. He walked in, but before entering the animus, checked the bedroom. Empty. Walking in, Phoenix made his way to the bathroom, and checked inside. No one. On his way back to the main room, he checked the closet. After what most likely happened to Phil, paranoia was a good policy. He planned to spend one or two hours in the Animus, then get to his work. He checked his watch. It was five thirty in the morning. Only security guards would be in the main building this early, so he would probably be safe for at least two and a half hours - but not if he was standing around much longer. He lay down on the Animus. The glass screen curved over his face, but instead of fading to white, the screen turned dark grey, with a similar layout to the control monitor screen - the main difference being the strand of DNA stretching across the screen.

He moved his head, beginning to scroll over the first few sections of DNA. When he scrolled over the second sequence, he was met with a blinking 'MEMORY LOCKED' message. _What? Oh, I must not be finished with sequence one. _He scrolled back and selected the first sequence, then was met with a rushing sensation as the screen phased to white. when Phoenix opened his eyes, he saw Savastian, standing in a blue void. Wisps of mist licked at his ankles as he began walking, and after only a few seconds, the screen faded to white.

_[Vigo__ - Summer 1529]_

Phoenix watched as mist formed into buildings and people, and a whole city was built around him. He started as the screen swooped towards Savastian, who was standing atop a building. He wore an outfit similar to his previous one, though Phoenix did notice some differences, including a knife at his belt. Two parallel scars stretched across his right eyebrow. He looked up to the sky, enjoying the breeze for a moment, then walked to the edge of the building and looked over. A pop up told Phoenix something he ignored about moving hay carts, then Savastian leapt off the roof and into one. The cart continued on its path for a little while, then Savastian jumped out.

"Hey!" Came the angry voice of a guard up the road. Phoenix examined the man,who was clad in armor and carrying a halberd. The man began stiffly trotting towards Savastian, and as he reached the boy, he spoke. "What were you doing in there, muchacho?" He asked, seemingly soothed after noticing Savastian's youth. "Just playing, Señor," Savastian replied, keeping his eyes off the hooded figure creeping up behind the guard. "Well, you should return home. It isn't safe for a child like you to be running around, jumping into carts. Assassins are known to hide their kills in the hay! You wouldn't want to come face to face with an assassin's victim, would you?" Savastian smirked, then simply replied, "I'm about to." The guard had only a split second to realize the implication before the rapier came through his throat.

The man's body fell to the ground, and Savastian's father pulled down his hood, examining his kill. "Another impressive ambush, my son." He said, tilting his head towards Savastian, then closing his eyes. He paused for a moment, slowly nodding. Smiling, he opened his eyes once more and said, "I think it is time I stayed true to my promise." Savastian's face lit up. He was finally going to be an assassin! Unbeknownst to his father, Savastian had been practicing the necessary skills on his own for the past six years. The mistakes he had made when he first began learning to free run had only made his resolve stronger, and he managed to successfully reach the top of his house after only a few weeks of practice. After that, he began Practicing with knives to get a feel for them. He eventually decided he preferred holding a knife in each hand, and practiced until he had become a decent dual-wielder. By this time, he had learned how to use quite a few different kinds of weapons, and become an expert free runner. His training would likely go by quickly.

_[FAST-FORWARDING MEMORY TO A MORE RECENT ONE]_

Savastian followed his father across a rooftop, slowly and quietly, until his father stopped and broke the silence. "The first thing you must know, novicio, is that no one who knows you as a civilian must know what you do while you are away from home, and no one who knows you as an assassin can know who you truly are. The assassins of España have had far to much opposition in the past, many times being all but wiped out. This is one of the reasons I never perform major assassinations in Vigo, or any of her surrounding cities. The price of being recognized is to great." Savastian's father gave him a moment to think about these words, then continued speaking. "This is also a reason stealth is so important. Killing guards in crowded area's is a foolish idea, and allowing any guards to escape a battle is even worse."

"So how do we save ourselves if we fail do avoid those things?" Savastian asked. His father thought for moment, then replied, "There is no sure way to keep yourself from being recognized if there are witnesses, but tearing down any wanted posters you come across couldn't cause harm. Speaking of wanted posters..." He paused, retrieving a rolled up piece of paper from a pouch on his belt. Unrolling the paper, he turned it towards Savastian, revealing a familiar face. "I've seen him somewhere before..." Savastian said, looking closely at the picture. "That is because he ate dinner with us not ten days ago." Savastian raised an eyebrow, "The 'work-mate' you invited to dine with us? I assumed he was a sailor." His father shrugged, "No, but he was a work-mate none the less."

"Que veo. So, why is his face on a wanted poster?" Savastian's father then continued, "He is a good friend of mine, so I invited him to dinner, but that is not the reason he was here. He came for an assassination, and ended up in open combat with his target's personal guards. Apparently someone caught sight of the battle, because these posters are all over the city-" Savastian cut his father off, "... And you want me to tear them down."

"It would be good practice, and save me some trouble as well." His father replied. The screen faded to white for a moment, and when it faded back, Savastian's father was sitting on then edge of the roof, dangling his legs. Phoenix grinned. _My turn to play,_ he thought, preparing for the run ahead of him. Savastian started running. He leapt from the building, rolling as he reached the next rooftop. As soon as his feet reached the ground, he continued running. Phoenix loved it - the feeling of wind in his face, the power behind each jump - it was exhilarating. As he reached to edge of the building, Savastian instinctively performed a leap of faith into a cart full of hay. He pulled himself out of the cart, brushing the hay off of himself as he walked back towards the building. He tore a wanted poster off the wall, the turned and began running. He turned onto a path through the buildings, shoving through people as he went.

Savastian found another poster at the end of the path. As he tore it down, he heard a voice to his left. He turned to look, and saw a guard jogging towards him. "Put that back, poco alborotador! Those posters are not for your amusement!" Savastian didn't know what to do at first. Run, or make an excuse? Then he realized; If he was going to be a member of this order, he couldn't let a simple guard get in his way. In two swift motions, he pulled his knife from it's sheath in an ice-pick grip with his left hand, and slammed it into the guard's eye. As soon as he pulled the blade out, the guard seemed to go limp. the body's legs bent, and it feel at Savastian's feet. he pushed into the crowd to avoid notice, and not a second to soon. "Querido Dios, who's done this?!" Savastian glanced back to see a pair of guards jogging toward the body.

Savastian found a few posters, just following the crowd around the city, but there were a few times he had to leave the main path. There were several posters on the rooftops at guard stations, for musketeers to look at. These proved to be a bit challenging to get at. Not only was it difficult to reach the musketeer unnoticed, but the only vulnerable places on the guards' bodies were their legs and face. This also proved problematic, as, if Savastian didn't want to risk detection by more guards than necessary, he would have to attack from the front - The side with a musket.

The solution to these problems was revealed by pure chance. While wandering around the patrol station, Savastian stumbled upon a group of four men in dirty clothes and caps, playing a dice game. Upon seeing him, two of them began whispering to each other, one of them just stared silently, and the last welcomed him. "Come play with us, amigo!" Savastian smiled. "I'd love to, but unfortunately, I must to do something first," he paused, "perhaps you can help me."

Savastian lowered his voice and asked, "Are you thieves?" His father had told him about thieves in the past. They were efficient at leading guards on long chases, far away from their posts. If they could lead the musketeers away from the posters... "That all depends on who's asking, amigo," the man replied, smirking. Savastian smirked right back. He knew what the thief mean't. "I assume one hundred and fifty maravedís will do?" Savastian asked, reaching for his coin pouch. The thief's grin widened, then he contently replied, "Pleasure doing business will you, amigo."


	7. Chapter 6

After handing over the money, Savastian lead the thieves to the first musketeer. Two of the thieves then separated from the group, climbing onto the watch tower. One of them ran in front of the guard, mocking him. He pointed his weapon at the thief, but before he pulled the trigger, the other thief snatched his money pouch off his belt. "Ladrones cabrones!" The musketeer shouted as the thieves ran away, "¡Vuelve aquí!"

He threw down his musket and charged after the thieves, pulling a sword from his belt as he ran. As soon as he moved onto the next building, Savastian climbed onto the guard's station. The poster was pinned to a railing that ran around most of the tower. Savastian felt a rush of satisfaction as he tore the poster from the railing, crumpling it up and shoving it into a pouch on his belt.

"Eh... are we done here?" One of the remaining thieves asked. "Here, we are, but I need you two for one more tower."

Once Savastian and the thieves reached the other musketeer's station, it was a simple matter to lure him away. When Savastian sent the thieves up to the guard, one of the men grabbed his sword out of it's sheath, then the other snatched his money. They ran in opposite directions, and the guard ran after the thief who had taken his sword. As Savastian tore down the poster, he noticed something interesting - a small, brass lined, green chest. He walked over to it after shoving the wanted poster into his pouch, then reached down and opened the box. He discovered the box to be filled to the brim with coins. He grinned as he filled his near-empty pouch till he could barely get it closed.

Before Savastian left, he decided to prevent the musketeer from causing him any trouble in the near future. He walked over to the gun, pulling out a flask, and poured liquid into the gun's mechanism. "That won't be firing again anytime soon," Savastian said to himself, before turning and running back in his father's direction. He leapt from rooftop to rooftop, Thinking about his mission as he went.

"I killed a man..." Savastian thought as he ran. He'd gotten into plenty of fist-fights, but this was the first time he'd actually _killed_ someone, and... he didn't know how to feel about that. Satisfied, perhaps? And part of him _did_ feel satisfied... which worried the other part of him. He should have been wracked with guilt at the thought of all those who had cared for the guard... but he felt no remorse. It felt as though he were dreaming, as if that man had never even truly existed.

By the time Savastian had almost reached his father, the last of his conflicted feelings had trickled away, and he was feeling content. He had finished his first training exercise with only one casualty and no witnesses, and along the way he'd even damaged a guard's musket, making the rooftops safer for him and his allies. The feeling of pride in his work died out, however, when he saw his father looking down to the street with a worried look on his face.

"What has happened, Papa? You look worried." Savastian's father turned to him and sighed. "The men at the docks are bringing each other news from all around España. The king and queen have made... a terrible mistake." Savastian raised his scarred eyebrow and responded with the obvious question, "What sort of mistake?"

Savastian's father tilted his face to the ground, closing his eyes, and slowly shook his head. "The kind that gives a Templar an enormous expanse of land to do with which he pleases. He has her blessing to slaughter all who stand between him and total domination."

"Who is this man you speak of?" Savastian asked, walking up to his father. "His name is Francisco Pizarro González, and allegiance to the Templar order corrupts his entire family. We have had quite a bit of trouble with them in the past." Savastian's father then smiled. "But, let us worry about that later. For now, how did your mission fare?"

"Rather well. I ran into a little trouble early on, but it was easily remedied. I also met a group of thieves, who helped me lead some guards away, just as you said they would, and I even sabotaged a musket." Savastian's father raised an eyebrow.

"All that, so quickly? I thought for sure you had not been able to reach them all..." He paused, stroking his chin, then replied. "You have shone great skill so far, even before I officially began training you... So much so, that I see no real purpose in forcing you to work through the novice stage!" He placed a hand on his son's shoulder, then stated his intention.

"I believe you are ready to wield a sword, Aprendiz."

_[FAST-FORWARDING MEMORY TO A MORE RECENT ONE]_

Phoenix didn't know why, but this made him grin. He felt just as much satisfaction as Savastian - who was grinning just as much - felt as he lifted the short-sword from the rack in his father's 'office'. "Wait now, son. A sword is a useful tool for an Assassin, but it is not his most important one." Savastian turned his head toward his father as he sheathed the sword, then he responded, "Then what is, Papa?"

Savastian's father walked up to his son, and Savastian turned to face him. His father reached a hand toward him, something clenched in his fist. Savastian reached out to take it, and his father dropped the object into his hands, and as soon as he saw it, a huge grin crept onto the boy's face.

Savastian excitedly began to strap the hidden blade onto his right wrist, but was stopped by his father. "No son, your _left _wrist." Savastian looked down to the device for a moment, raised an eyebrow, then looked back to his father. "Why not my right? Is there really any difference?" His father gave a slight nod and replied, "The blade does not go on the same hand that you wield your sword with. By wearing it on your left hand, you give yourself the option to use both weapons in combat, or easily switch from one weapon to the other. Understand?"

Savastian's face grew vaguely frustrated, and he countered his father's explanation, "But if it just has to be on my free hand, why can't I just fight with my left?"

His father raised an eyebrow, "Since when have you been able to do that? Fight with either hand, I mean." Savastian gave his father an odd look and replied, "You mean you can not?"

"No... in fact, no one can, to my knowledge. I wonder, would you show me such a skill in action?" Savastian smirked, "A demonstration?" He began, "No problem."

The screen faded to white in a short loading period, and when the game continued, Savastian stood in a room filled with empty weapon racks and mannequin-like stands made for displaying clothes on lining the walls. His father stood before him, hand rested on his sword, prepared to draw it. "Ready when you are," he said to Savastian, tightening his grip on the rapier's handle.

_What weapon do I get to use? A knife again? _As Phoenix thought this, the screen shifted to a misty blue background. On either side of the screen, curved lines stretched from the top corners to the bottom ones. Three black circles adorned the line on the left hand side, each containing a white weapon silhouette. Fists, daggers, and a sword. A small pop-up told Phoenix to select his daggers, and after he had done so, the game continued.

The walls crackled, flickering in and out of the memory corridor, and everything slowed down as Savastian drew his knives. As he ran towards his father, a ripple of glowing white symbols and mist traveled down Savastian's body, then across the floor, breaking everything up and revealing the misty void hidden beneath the walls. Another ripple went down Savastian body, this time leaving the entire character model glowing white. Several glitches flickered around his body, then the entire thing disappeared for a split second before reforming out of mist.

No, not reforming... Phoenix could easily see the altered height of the boy. He now seemed to be several years older, most likely fifteen or sixteen. As Savastian stopped running, the perspective shifted to behind him, showing that his opponent had changed from his father to a faceless guard - a man with thin armor that more than likely failed to provide the protection necessary for such an occupation. The Animus the began to speak.

_[LOOK AT YOUR TARGET. NOTICE HOW THE SELECTED ENEMY IS HIGHLIGHTED. IN A GROUP OF GUARDS-]_

-As the voice said this, several other guards, all their faces blurred and featureless, appeared behind the first-

_[-ANY OF YOUR ATTACKS WILL BE DIRECTED AT THE HIGHLIGHTED GUARD. KEEP IN MIND, THE SELECTED GUARD WILL CHANGE THROUGHOUT BATTLE. NOW, FOCUS ON YOUR ENEMIES.]_

Phoenix followed the voices order, and as he did so, a cross-hair appeared in the center of the screen and the perspective shifted into a position from which it could look passed Savastian, into the group of guards.

_[GOOD. NOW, LOOK THROUGH THE GUARDS, ONE BY ONE.]_

The animus waited for Phoenix to do so. As highlighted the first guard once more, the screen faded to white and the Animus simply replied, 'Good', before moving on. In this stage, two guards stood talking before Savastian.

_[AN ENEMY'S AWARENESS INDICATOR SHOWS THE STATUS OF THE ENEMIES SUSPICION TOWARD YOU. NOTICE HOW NEITHER OF THESE ENEMIES HAVE ANY AWARENESS INDICATOR. NOW, PROVOKE ONE OF THESE ENEMIES BY SHOVING HIM.]_

Phoenix ran Savastian towards the guards. As he got within a few inches of the guard, he reached out his hands, pushing the man backwards. As the man stumbled, a symbol appeared above his head. It resembled a flashing yellow eye with three slanted grey bars extending from it, one directly in the center of its top, and one sprouting from each bottom corner. Time paused, and the animus explained.

_[THE GUARD IS NOW SUSPICIOUS OF YOU, AND MORE LIKELY TO NOTICE AND REACT TO ANY ILLEGAL ACTIONS YOU PERFORM. NOW, KILL THE OTHER GUARD.]_

As soon as the tutorial continued, the suspicious guard shoved Savastian toward the other guard. Phoenix, as Savastian, turned, drew his knives, and stabbed into the man's abdomen. As soon as he did so, in a flash, the first guard's awareness indicator turned red, and the bars shifted in position, forming a triangle around the eye, and once again, the game paused.

_[THE GUARD IS NOW FULLY AWARE OF YOU, AND WILL REACT TO YOUR PRESENCE IN A HOSTILE MANNER. NOW, TRY TO BREAK HIS LINE OF SIGHT.] _

A small building with a ladder leaning against it appeared behind Savastian. He climbed up the ladder, the guard following, and as soon as he reached the top and pulled himself up, the eye of the guard's awareness indicator seemed to close, leaving a grey oval in the place of the red eye, and the game froze.

_[THE GUARD'S LINE OF SIGHT HAS BEEN BROKEN. NOW-]_

The view changed to show a cart of hay on the ground beside the building.

_[PERFORM A LEAP OF FAITH INTO THE HAY-CART AND HIDE.]_

As Savastian ran toward the edge and hurled himself off of the building, the screech of an eagle sounded, signifying a successful leap of faith. He flipped, midair, plunging into the hay on his back. Once he had entered the hay-cart, the animus spoke again.

_[NOW, REMAIN HIDDEN UNTIL THE ENEMY'S AWARENESS INDICATOR HAS DISAPPEARED.] _

((For my own reference:

1532= 16

1544= 28

1548= 32))


	8. Chapter 7

Several seconds later, the indicator fully disappeared, and the animus told Phoenix that he had done well before moving on. In the next stage, he learned how to blend with a crowd by standing between any two or more people, or sitting between them on a bench. After that, he learned how to use 'Eagle Vision', a sort of sixth sense, which he had seen being used for the first time back in Savastian's attic, when Savastian located his father's clothes-chest.

After he understood how to activate the ability, he learned how to use it to identify different types of people by the color they emitted. Allies would glow blue, while inversely, enemies would glow red, assassination targets or important individuals would seem golden, and those with a mission to offer would appear in white, along with hiding spots and blend groups. Civilians would appear in no color at all, simply dark grey with a small amount of faded color, depending on the brightness of their clothes.

After this stage was done, Phoenix had finally reached the interesting part - combat. He did not have a single opponent, but four - a knife wielding guard known as an agile, a heavily armored, a halberd wielding sergeant, a captain, equipped with a rapier, and the ever-popular musketeer. No problem.

Savastian drew his knives in an ice-pick grip, cutting end facing away from his body to aid in slash attacks, and as he did so, the animus spoke.

_[SOME ENEMY ARCHETYPES ARE MORE RESILIENT THAN OTHERS. BE READY TO ADJUST YOUR STRATEGY TO DEFEAT THEM]_

The enemies drew their weapons as Savastian charged toward them. The swing of his blade was easily avoided by the agile, so he struck at the sergeant instead. The guard blocked Savastian's first few attacks, but after a moment he managed to break his defense. he struck twice before he was interrupted by an attack from the agile. Savastian easily countered the hasty strike and, switching his left blade into a sword-grip, buried his right knife in the guard's side before finishing him off with a left-handed stab to the throat.

He saw the musketeer aiming his gun and grabbed the sergeant, pressing the blade to his throat and pulling him into the line of fire. Savastian heard a clunking sound as the bullet pierced the guard's armor. The guard went limp as the bullet tore through the bottom of his breastbone, into his stomach, and Savastian released the corpse, letting it fall to the ground at his feet.

Savastian charged toward the musketeer with the captain hot on his tail. The musketeer threw down his gun, drawing his sword, and ran forwards to meet Savastian. Savastian spun around, smacking the sword out of a defensive position with his left knife, before slashing the guards thigh, forcing the musketeer to turn his back to Savastian.

He swung his left hand up across the musketeer's back, slashed his armored side, then, as the guard turned toward him, struck for the brute's face. The musketeer smacked the knife away from his face, and lifted his sword to strike Savastian. As the musketeer lifted his sword to slash, the captain drew his back to stab.

Savastian ceased the opportunity to kill both enemies at once, rolling out of the way as the guards struck. The captain's rapier stabbed into the musketeer's throat as the musketeer's sword dug through the captain's helmet, digging into the very top of his skull. Switching both of his knives into sword-grips, Savastian leapt forward, digging his knives through each of the guard's sides, knocking them both over and finishing them off.

_[WELL DONE]_

Savastian dissolved into mist and the entire screen faded to white, then he was thirteen once more, standing before his father in the center of a room lined with weapon racks and clothes stands. His father swung at his head, and, crossing his arms above his scalp, caught his father's blade against the blades of his knives.

Savastian pushed up against his father's sword and twisted, knocking his father down onto one knee, then elbowed him in the back, knocking him onto his hands and knees. Leaning down, he firmly hit his father's stomach with the base of his right knife's handle, forcing his father to roll onto his back. Without giving him a chance to retaliate, Savastian placed his left knife against his father's throat. "I win," he said, smirking.

"Nicely done!" Savastian's father said as the boy helped him to his feet, "Better than I could have done at your rank... Certainly better than I could have done at your _age_!" Savastian's smirk widened ever so slightly at the complement. It had been a great day! He had made his city safe once more for a fellow assassin, received two promotions, and even defeated his father, an incredible swordsman, in a duel. He doubted a day so productive would come again, so he savored the feeling for as long as he could.

"So my son," Savastian's father began, placing a hand on his son's shoulder, "are you ready for your training to truly begin?" Savastian's smirk vanished, "Has it not already?" He asked, surprised. His father gave a chuckle, "There's more to being an assassin than tearing down simple wanted posters! That is work for a novicio, and you are no longer such a thing, aprendiz." He paused, stroking his chin, then continued, "Tomorrow, you will learn the tricks of the trade - how to use your hidden blade, and such."

Savastian understood. He still had a lot of training to go before he became a full assassin. He looked up at the huge assassin emblem painted onto the ceiling, smiling, as the world around him dissolved into mist, then everything faded to white.

_[SEQUENCE TWO - Vigo, Summer 1531]_


	9. Sequence 2: Chapter 8

The screen remained white for only a split second before the mist began forming into buildings, people, and ships around the dock. The mist surrounding the ships began sprouting holes and dissolving to reveal the surface of the water hidden beneath it, and with a quick movement, the screen transitioned to Savastian, now fifteen years of age and possessing the character model shown in the tutorial, walking behind his father, who now possessed a mustache and beard. Savastian's father motioned towards a guard, and Savastian charged at the man.

Just as he reached the target, Savastian brought back his left hand and flexed his wrist, extending a thin blade from the mechanism fixed to the bottom of his forearm. As the blade got within a few inches of the guard, Savastian swung his hand forward, plunging his weapon through the guard's thin, tarnished armor and into his lower chest. Savastian retracted his blade, turning back to his father.

"Come along," he called out to Savastian, motioning towards a nearby dock with his head as he drew his rapier, "We haven't all day." Savastian hurried after his father, who lead him to the ship. The animus gave a warning, alerting Phoenix as Savastian entered a restricted area.

The plank of wood leading onto the ship's deck was guarded by a pair of musketeers, and as Savastian entered their line of sight, their awareness indicators immediately began filling in with red, and they walked toward the two assassins to investigate. The weapon selector popped up, and Phoenix chose his sword. The assassins didn't give the guards a chance to attack, drawing their weapons and striking without pausing between motions. Savastian's father picked up one of the victim's muskets and began walking up the board to the ship's deck.

Savastian followed his father aboard the ship. A musketeer saw them, gasped, and aimed his musket, but his shot was interrupted when Savastian's father shot him with the musket he'd taken from his last target. A load, shaky, "Yah!" Was heard from the back of the ship. Savastian and his father looked in the direction of the noise, and saw their main target running toward the edge of the boat, intending to escape into the water. He grabbed the top of the wall that prevented him from falling off the edge of the boat, and swung one leg over it, then the other, shifting into a sitting position. As he began pushing of, the earsplitting sound of Savastian's wheel-lock pistol erupted through Phoenix's mind.

The bullet blasted through the target's throat with a burst of blood, and the force of the impact knocked him into the sea. "Disparo de increíble, Savastian!" Savastian's father shouted, smiling ear to ear. Savastian looked down at the pistol smoking in his hand and mumbled, "I was aiming for his back..."

"No matter! Gerónimo de Aguilar is dead, and we have one less Templar to worry about!" His father replied. "Si," Savastian smirked, "I suppose he chose a bad time to return to España."

His father nodded, "And what a tragedy, he fell overboard and drowned soon after reaching port! At least, that is what the heralds will soon be saying." He sighed, "It has been a good year for the brotherhood, so far. First Walraven II , then Pedro Arias de Ávila, then Louis de Bréze, and now Gerónimo de Aguilar - four prominent members of the Templar order all lie dead now. Gone from this world, they can commit no more evil deeds." He looked to his son, who was now almost as tall as he was, and placed his hand on the boy's shoulder.

"And if not for you, my son, one of those targets may have escaped from us. As a father, I am proud of you, but as a mentor... no, I am your mentor no longer," he paused, looking straight at Savastian, "You are ready to truly become one of the brotherhood."

Savastian had gotten extremely good at concealing his emotions in the past few years. Because of this, his grin did not bend physics and extend off of his face. It merely stretched ear to ear. Several hours passed as hi father gathered the other assassins for the initiation ceremony. As he followed his father across the rooftops of Vigo, Savastian steeled himself for the ceremony. It would not come without some pain.

They had reached the end of the city before Savastian had managed to put on a straight face, and soon after they had entered a carriage and were on their way to Tuy.

_[FAST-FORWARDING MEMORY TO A MORE RECENT ONE]_

As Savastian and his father walked through the city, towards the Cathedral de Santa Maria de Tuy, they spoke with one another. "Savastian, do you realize that you have both completed your training _AND _earned a place in the brotherhood within only two years?" His father asked, and he responded, "Yes, what of it?" His father glanced back at him, "No assassin without prior skill has performed such a task since the crusades. Not only have you done that, but you have also reached the rank at a far younger age than any assassin I've ever heard of."

Though Savastian did not show it, he was overjoyed at hearing this. Though he had grown far more patient since he had learned of his parents' occupation, he was still glad to have reached his goal so quickly. The rank of assassin would truly bring him into the brotherhood, giving him the respect of recruits and enough influence on the brotherhood that his opinions may be taken into account.

Becoming an assassin would also allow him to gain information on his targets without the need for him to go searching for it, which would make locating the targets and take much less time and giving him more time to plan his strategy, and once he had gained the respect of his superiors through clean assassinations and wise decisions, he would be capable of reaching the rank of master assassin.

As a master assassin, he would gain influence on the brotherhood, gaining the ability to recruit others to it, and even command his own assassinations. But all these thoughts of reaching the maximum rank was being too forward, and he needed to focus on the present. He and his father had reached the cathedral.

"Follow my lead, quietly," His father said, walking around the side of the large building, and pushed behind a small tree growing close to the wall. Savastian followed, pushing branched out of his way to see what his father was doing. There was a brass assassin insignia, centered by a marble skull shape, popping out of the center of a large, tarnished iron imprint in the wall.

A circle of iron and bronze formed an extension of the imprint that reached across the grass, forming a sort of floor. It was easily large enough for Savastian's father to stand on, but for some reason, he was careful not to, only standing on the floor's rusted iron rim. He slouched over slightly, inserting the index and middle fingers of his into the skulls eye sockets, and pulled the piece of marble upward, ever so slightly.

The skull mechanically separated into four sections, rearranged itself in a manner that turned it upside-down, and locked back together. The slightly rusty floor creaked as it's sections separated, rotating to overlap one another and retracting to the ground beneath the rim. Savastian's father looked to him, gave a small nod, and pressed his legs together, dropping down the shoot.

Savastian waited a moment to ensure he would not land atop his father, then jumped down the shoot. When he hit the ground, he gave a slight forward push with his legs and rolled to minimize the shock of the impact. He stood up and saw his father disappear down a corridor. As he followed after his father, he could hear people talking farther in the direction he was walking.

Savastian's father turned another corner, and Savastian ran after him. As he turned the corner, he stopped abruptly, waving his arms to regain his balance. The path ended with a large drop. Why had his father lead him here? He looked over the ledge and saw a pile of straw prepared at the bottom. He would have to perform a leap of faith to continue towards the ceremony. A clever trap; if a Templar or guard - neither of which could perform leaps of faith - were to find, and use, the entrance to these tunnels, they would not be able to move any farther through them, nor would they be able to compromise the brotherhood's safety.

Savastian Leapt from the ledge, accompanied by the screech of an eagle. He landed, his fall cushioned by the straw. He pulled himself out of the pile and looked around for his father, but saw nothing.

_[ACTIVATE EAGLE VISION]_

In a flash of white, everything changed color. The floor and walls became dark grey, while the pile of straw began glowing blue-tinged white, and Savastian shined blue. A trail of golden light lead from the straw pile, through the room, and down one of the corridors. As Savastian followed the trail down the path, the voices of the other assassins became louder and louder. He turned a corner and - there they were, illuminated in blue.

Savastian deactivated eagle vision as one of assassins, a tall man with a large stomach, stopped his conversation with Savastian's father and walked over to the boy. "This is the soon-to-be assassin?" He asked, grabbing Savastian's chin and directing his face to his father, "He still has a baby face!"

"Maybe so, but he is a capable young man, and has earned the position." Savastian's father said, "Savastian, this is Hernando, the Mentor of the Andalucían assassin guild, and a personal friend of mine." Hernando gave a hearty laugh and released Savastian's chin before correcting Savastian's father, "Friend? If not for me, you and your boy would not be here today!" He looked down at Savastian, "I saved you papa's life, _AND_ introduced him to your dear mother! Speaking of Leandra, how is she, Arnaldo?"

"Stubborn as always. You would not believe the effort it took to convince her to stay at home with Paulo. Like fighting a lion!" Arnaldo sighed, "I wish she could have come, but it would make Paulo too suspicious. A shame she will not be able to see Savastian's initiation, but there was nothing we could do. Short of telling Paulo that we are assassins, of course."

Just then, a deep voice echoed through the room, silencing the conversation. "May the initiation commence!"

The crowd split, gathering on either side of Savastian. The year before, Arnaldo had told his son about his own initiation, and Savastian remembered well. The fire within the brazier crackled as Savastian began walking towards the Mentor of the northern Spanish assassins.

As Savastian walked, the Mentor spoke, "Laa shay'a waqi'un moutlaq bale kouloun moumkine. The wisdom of our Creed is revealed through these words."

As Savastian reached him, the mentor began, "Where other men blindly follow the truth, remember..." Savastian finished, "Nothing is true." The mentor began the next sentence, "Where other men are limited by morality or law, remember..."

"Everything is permitted."

"We work in the dark to serve the light. We are Assassins."

Every assassin in the room the spoke the maxim of the creed, "Nothing is true. Everything is permitted," as the Mentor lifted the tongs from the brazier and Savastian reached forward, separating his fingers so that his ring finger was accessible. The Mentor placed the red hot tongs around Savastian's finger and...

Though Savastian merely grimaced, the searing pain was almost to much to stand. It took all his willpower and more to keep from snatching his hand away, but the branding was over before it became too unbearable. A transition brought Savastian, Hernando, and the Mentor onto the roof of the cathedral.

_[PERFORM A LEAP OF FAITH]_

Savastian walked to the edge of the wooden board the brotherhood had installed for past assassin initiates. The pigeons perched at the edge of the board scattered as Savastian approached them. He reached the edge and propelled himself off, spreading his arms for a moment before flipping, so as to land on his back. He landed in the hay-cart, and as he entered the hay, everything faded to white.


	10. Chapter 9

"Gah!" Phoenix shouted, snapping up from the animus and bashing his face on the retracting glass screen as he did so. He grasped his left ring finger in pain, and was surprised as the burning sensation rapidly faded. As the last of the pain dissipated, Phoenix looked about frantically, hoping no one had heard his outburst. He quickly pulled himself from the animus, retrieved his cart and jogged out of the room.

As Phoenix walked through the hall toward the elevator, he thought about how lucky he was to work at a building with such tidy people. Though there was the occasional clogged toilet, coffee spill or broken beaker, most of his job consisted of mopping already clean-looking restroom floors and cleaning toilets in the same condition. Because of this, it was unlikely anyone would notice if he didn't actually work for a few days.

He quickly rinsed out a coffee pot on the bottom floor before going home for the day - his shift had ended while he was in the animus. The drive home was uneventful, as was the rest of the night. The next morning, he woke up early once again, put on his uniform, drove to work, took the elevator upstairs to the research wing, and got into the animus.

Shortly after, the game loaded, and Phoenix was Savastian once more, meeting with Arnaldo and Hernando. His finger burned, yet felt cold and damp. He tried not to touch it, not wanting to risk infection.

"Congratulations, niño," Hernando said loudly, slapping a hand onto Savastian's shoulder,"you're an Assassin!" Savastian rubbed his shoulder, smiling. _He was an assassin. _His training had gone by quickly, and he was proud to say that he was now a full member of the brotherhood. He flexed his wrist, extending his hidden blade, and gazed upon the metal, which appeared to glimmer in the moonlight.

"Savastian," Arnaldo called, "I think it's time we put the finishing touches on your attire."

_[FAST-FORWARDING MEMORY TO A MORE RECENT ONE]_

Savastian followed his father down a set of stairs, into the training room. Over one of the stands hung a costume comprised of a puffy dress-shirt, similar to Savastian current attire, beneath a white, tailed-vest with red highlights, topped with a white hood.

"Go, put it on."

Savastian walked over to the stand, and an alert came up-

_[ASSASSIN OUTFIT: EARNED DURING SEQUENCE TWO]_

_[PUT ON OUTFIT?]_

_[Yes] _

The lack of a 'No' option told Phoenix he had to select the outfit to move on, and he did so. The screen faded to white, and when it faded back to normal, it showed Savastian fastening a new hidden blade bracer, this one with an Assassin insignia fastened to the the top, over one of his puffy sleeves. He turned to his father, smiling, and pulled up his beaked hood.

"How do I look?" He asked Arnaldo, admiring his new bracer. His father smiled and nodded, replying, "Like a tiny Assassin!" Savastian rolled his eyes, but smirked at his father's comment none the less. He _was _rather short compared to most Assassins, but most Assassins also weren't as young as him. He was sure to grow soon.

"Meet me at the docks when you are ready, and we can begin the next stage of your training."

A white transition brought Savastian just outside of his home, and he began the run to the docks. When he came to a building, he ran up the wall, reaching for a windowsill. A woman yelped and jumped out of the way as Savastian pulled himself into the building. He raced through the hall, vaulting over a table and leaping through a window on the other side of the house. He hit the ground and rolled before leaping onto a pile of crates, scrambling up the pile and jumping. He grabbed onto a hanging pot and swung around the side of the building, swung on a lamp-pole and landed in a cart of hay.

Savastian pulled himself out of the hay-cart and continued running. Just as he began growing tired, he was met with a stroke of good luck; a guard, riding a horse through town. He rushed behind a corner and whistled, drawing the guard's attention, and the man dismounted the horse and walked over to investigate. It was the last thing he would ever do.

Savastian dug his hidden blade into the guards stomach, pulling him into the shadows. He checked to make sure no one had seen, then walked over to the horse and... 'took possession of it'. On his new mount, he raced through the streets of Vigo, heading for the docks. Civilians moved out of the way of the speeding steed, making a path for Savastian.

once he'd reached the docks, he dismounted and apologized to the horse about taking it's master, then released it's reins.

"Hey!" Shouted a voice, and Savastian turned to see Paulo walking toward him.

"Ah, Paulo... What is it?" Savastian responded, hoping his brother wouldn't interfere with whatever Arnaldo wished to show him.

"You! You've been so distant lately... Always out with Papa. We never talk anymore! What have you even been doing all this time?"

Savastian began lightly scratching his left hand, wondering what he should tell his brother, "Father has been... teaching me his craft."

A grin stretched across Paulo's face, and he grabbed Savastian's shoulders, giving him a slight shake, "So you are to be a sailor, how wonderful!"

Savastian smirked, "Sí... In fact, I was just on my way to meet Papa now. Would you mind if we continued this conversation later?"

Paulo sighed, "I suppose a little more waiting won't make much of a difference."

As Paulo walked away, Savastian looked around for his father. Though he didn't see Arnaldo himself, he did see _La_ _encantadora. _He ran a hand down the smooth hull of the ship as he made his way to the ramp that lead aboard.

As soon as he stepped aboard the vessel, Savastian attracted some attention, "Hey, niño! What are you doing on my ship!?" Came the voice of a man obviously not of Spanish heritage. Savastian turned to the voice to see a man clothed in the formal-looking attire Savastian often saw in ship captains. The well-dressed man stood out among the band of poorer men readying the ship to sail.

"At ease, Capitán, he is my son." Arnaldo said, putting a hand on the Frenchman's shoulder, "Ah, Savastian? Je m'attendais il a serait ... supérieur."

Though Savastian did not know what the man had said, he had a feeling it was something condescending, simply judging by the captain's tone. Arnaldo whispered something in the captain's ear before signaling for Savastian to come.

Savastian walked over to the men and Arnaldo began speaking.

"Capitán Babineaux has agreed to... help us. You know why I became a sailor, don't you?"

"To ease you in navigation, no?"

"Correct, and the Capitán is the one who gets me from place to place... but it isn't exactly easy to find a ship Capitán who is willing to change course at your every whim... which is why you need to learn to sail for yourself. Capitán, is she ready for open water?"

Savastian grinned. Long before he had ever known about the brotherhood, he had wanted to be the captain of his own ship. He would sometimes sneak onto empty vessels and just bark out orders to an imaginary crew. Now, that crew would be real, and every turn of the wheel would change the course of the ship, every order would change the ship's speed.

"She should be. Men, get her into the water!"

The crew began moving across the deck of the carraca, unfurling sails. Several men grabbed hold of the chain that connected the anchor to the ship and, slowly but surely, pulled up the anchor, and the ship began to slowly drift away from the dock.

"Come, child, take the wheel," The Captain said, taking a step back. Savastian took his place behind the wheel of the ship, and the Captain directed his hands into the correct positions.

Savastian had done a decent amount of research on sailing. He knew the techniques necessary to reach maximum speed and the terminology to use in order to give orders. "Full sail!" He shouted, and Arnaldo repeated with greater confidence and superiority, "Give us everything she has!"

Their speed quickened, and it wasn't long before the ship was in open water.


	11. Chapter 10

((AN: Decided to make a partly sea-based chapter, just to acknowledge AC4: Black Flag's revamped naval system, as well as, you know, Arnaldo's job. Enjoy!))

Savastian turned the wheel, enjoying the spray of the ocean as the ship tilted and turned.

"You are doing well!" The captain said, "Just keep the wind in your sails!" Savastian spun the wheel once more, picking up speed as the wind picked up. He smiled, looking to the clear sky.

"Is it always so beautiful out here?" He asked the captain.

"Certainly not! It may be a lovely day now, but I've seen the gentle slopes of the sea turn to crashing waves of pure terror in the blink of an eye, and the sky turn black and begin to pour down her fury just as fast. And not to mention the occasional pirate attacks! Those pirates, they get to you, striking out from behind waves. Horrible, they are. Luckily for us, they do not risk coming out in this kind of weather, let alone so close to shore! They'd be snatched up by the authorities in no time."

"Good. I'd rather not run into a pirate ship," Savastian replied.

The captain put a hand to his chin, thinking for a moment, before turning back to Savastian, "But how would you feel about _captaining _a pirate ship?"

Savastian gave him an inquisitive look. "Are you suggesting that we attack another ship?" The captain gave a slight nod, "Not just any ship though." He pointed to a ship in the far distance, "That ship."

"Why that one? What separates that ship from any other?"

"That ship is sailing here from the new world." He sneered at Savastian, "She is a human cargo ship. See the cages on her deck? Each one is filled with natives of the New World, all women and children, more than likely."

"I see," Savastian paused, "Let us go."

"Men! Prepare for battle!" The crew didn't take long to get to work, Running below deck, opening cannon hatches and snatching up muskets. Some of the more muscular men brought extra muskets above deck, throwing them to other men, who snatched them from the air and began loading them.

One of the men ran up to the captain and handed him a musket. The captain spoke, "The men are at your command, Savastian. Tell them when to fire, when to board... and most importantly, be ready to take charge yourself. I have your musket, should you wish to take it."

Savastian steered toward the other hip, turning as he reached it and ramming its bow. The ship turned with the strike, and Savastian turned into it more directly, forcing it to turn away from the shore. He heard the captain of the other ship barking orders, turning away from _La Encantadora. _He was trying to get enough distance that he could safely fire his cannons. Savastian wouldn't give him the chance.

"Ready the cannons!" Savastian maneuvered the ship so that at least half of the port side cannons would hit their target. As soon as the ship was positioned, Savastian gave the order, "_Fire!_"

A barrage of cannonballs collided with the opposing ship. Savastian spun the wheel, and _La Encantadora _turned toward the enemy ship.

"Prepare to board!" Savastian cried, "Leave no crewman standing!" Savastian released the wheel and ran down the deck of the ship. He turned and grabbed onto the ropes leading up to the crows nest, and easily scaled the ladder-like net. _La Encantadora _impacted the other ship, and Savastian used the force to throw him onto the enemy ship. He grabbed onto a rope, swinging onto the mast and grabbing onto a large gash in the wood. He dropped, landing on the deck a few feet below. He saw the enemy captain, who was distracted, fighting one of _La Encantadora's _crew, drew his pistol, aimed, and shot. The man grabbed his stomach in pain, then dropped to his knees before dying. Savastian sheathed his pistol, instead drawing his rapier with his right hand and his dagger with his left.

Savastian swung his knife, slicing the back of an enemy's legs and knocking him to his knees, then slit the mans throat with his sword. Another crewman rushed towards him with a carelessly wielded rapier, which Savastian easily blocked and pushed to the side with his own rapier, before slitting the man's throat with his knife and tripping him backwards, finishing him off with a stab to the man's stomach with his sword. Another man ran toward Savastian. He stabbed at the Assassin, but Savastian pushed the blade aside, slashed his attacker's kidney, and shoved the man's head in-between two of the wooden cages bars. The captives shrunk back in fear as Savastian stabbed his dagger into the back of the man's neck.

Savastian felt a twang of guilt for the captives huddles in the cage, but had no way to apologize. He made a mental note to learn their language, then went back to capturing the ship.

He grabbed a man from behind, slitting his throat, and sheathed his weapons, instead extending his hidden blades. He stabbed one enemy and kicked another overboard. He looked around for more enemy crewmen, but saw none. The ship was his.

Savastian smirked, "Men," He said, "She's ours!" He leapt over the side of the ship, into the ocean, and swam back to _La Encantadora. _He climbed back aboard and walked over to the captain. "What shall we do with the captives? We can't exactly let them out of their cages and send them on their merry way."

"We do all we can. Feed them, give them water," The captain paused, "And send them home. But before we can do that, we will have to find you a crew."

"_Capitán!_" Arnaldo shouted, "He's fifteen years old! You can not honestly want him to sail to the New World!?"

"He's a fine sailor, and an Assassin, no? And as an Assassin, it is his duty-"

"I am an Assassin as well. I will take them home."

The captain sighed, "And by that you mean you expect me to leave my family for several months and sail you there. Fine, but I still believe it would be good for the boy to gain some experience."

"He can gain experience in his home country."

"But Papa-" Savastian began, but was silenced by Arnaldo.

"Not a word from you!"

After a moment of silence, the captain of _La Encantadora _spoke, "Savastian, you should go take that ship back to shore. Those people will need food and water, quickly."

Savastian looked back to Arnaldo and the captain before leaping off the side of the ship into the water. He swam back to the other ship, climbed aboard, and got to work dislodging it from _La Encantadora_'s ram. Once the two ships were disconnected, they made their way back to the docks. Once they'd dropped anchor, Savastian met with his father and the captain.

"I will get them something to drink," said Arnaldo, "Savastian, you get them some meat from a butchery, and bring it to your matre to cook, then get several loaves of bread. Capitán, you keep guard until we return."

Savastian took to the rooftops, and soon he'd reached the nearest butcher. He purchased several pound of beef, then lead the butcher back to his home with the meat.

"I can take it from here. Thank you for your help," Savastian told the butcher at the door, taking the crate from him.

"Not a problem. Big family, eh?" The butcher replied, "No, we just have some... dinner guests."

He brought the crate of meat inside and placed it on the kitchen floor, then went outside to speak with his mother. He found Leandra on the side of the house, tending to her messenger pigeons.

"Eh, madre...?" He hesitantly began, "Oh, Savastian, you're back. What is it?"

"I... padre and I... We need your help with something..."

"And what would that be?"

"Well... I just bought one thousand maravedís worth of beef... but, I can't exactly cook, and I need to get some a few loaves of bread before the baker runs out."

His mother scowled, "I stopped being an Assassin for this? Ugh, I should have taught you to cook for yourself years ago! Fine, go fetch your bread. I'll get to work on the beef, but first tell me, why in gods name do you need so much food?!"

Savastian paused, "Uh... To summarize, I have a boat full of Indians who need to be fed."

Leandra stared at him for a moment, then walked away without a word, not knowing how to respond. Savastian couldn't blame her; he had given her a rather unusual answer. He went on his own way, running through the city to find a bakery. Bread was cheaper than beef, and easier to prepare, since it was already cooked, and merely needed to be ripped up. He found a bakery, went inside, and bought seven loaves of bread. The baker gathered the loaves up and placed them into a basket, draped a cloth over the top, and handed it to Savastian.

Luckily, he wasn't to far from the docks, and had soon reached them with the bread. The captain greeted him, "Savastian! Go, your padre is giving them water."

Savastian climbed aboard the ship and placed the basket of bread down beside one of the cages.

"How are they?" He asked, sitting down beside Arnaldo, "Better. It took some time, but after they realized I was not trying to hurt them, they accepted the water from me." The captives were drinking from wine bottles that had been emptied and filled with well water. There were two cages, one containing three captives, the other containing four. Six women and one young boy, no older than nine. A young woman lay in the back of one of the cages, and upon closer examination, Savastian's heart sunk; the woman's breathing was slow, shallow, and shaky, and didn't look like she would survive through the rest of the day. He closed his eyes, slowly shaking his head, "Papa..."

"I know... There is nothing we can do," Arnaldo replied, taking a piece of bread from the basket and slowly handing it to one of the women through the bars of the cage. She hesitantly brought it up to her nose, then took a deep sniff. She smiled, said something to her fellow captives, and began tearing off pieces of bread and handing them around. She then climbed to the back of the cage and tried to awaken the sick woman. She gave a weak groan, but did not move.

Savastian slowly shook his head. He found it disgusting that one human being could put another through such conditions. The conquistadors stole up everything of value they could find, human beings included.

Savastian gave a sad sigh and stood up, "I'm going to go for a walk." He spent the next hour or so running around town taking letters to people, and helping a blacksmith craft some armor. Once he was done, he returned to his house and went inside. His mother was almost done cooking the last of the meat, and once she'd finished, she poured the food onto a tablecloth, tied it up, and placed the makeshift sack into a clothes chest. "I want these back when you are done." She told Savastian, shoving the large chest into his hands.

"Uhh, Mama, I do not think I can carry this all the way to the docks," Savastian said as he took the heavy container.

"I know you can't. Come, I prepared ahead of time. I'm not your padre," Leandra's voice became more cheerful at the last sentence.  
She lead Savastian behind the house to a horse and cart. "Here, put the chest in the cart and be on your way, before the meat gets to cold."


End file.
